Changing the World

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Peachwing’s ailin’ again?” he asked, struggling to keep his tone of voice light.

  “Some,” she admitted.

  “Mites again,” his grandfather sniffed.

  “And she’s sad ’cause the autumn’s endin’,” Kasiath added solemnly, listening to the sound of rain pelting against the sitting room window. “There won’t be such nice flyin’ when the snow comes.”

  “That won’t be for a while yet, though, will it?”

  “Peachwing figures it’ll be afore the end of the month.”

  Hektor peered down at the bird, who peered myopically back up at him from the protection of his sister’s fingers. “Don’t know how you can know what she’s thinkin’,” he said with a touch of admiration in his voice.

  “The girl’s always been right smart when it comes to feathered creatures,” their grandfather agreed. “But I think she a bit batty, myself.”

  “Thomar,” their mother admonished, looking up from where she and Aiden’s wife, Sulia, were stitching a piece of embroidered cloth together.

  Kasiath just shrugged. “S’all right, Ma. Granther’s just teasin’.” She stroked the bird’s head with one fingertip. “Don’t know that she is thinkin’ exactly,” she admitted to Hektor, ignoring their grandfather’s wink. “It’s more like a feelin’, really. She gets all pouty, layin’ down in her feathers, an’ I just know it’s cause she can feel the snow comin’, an’ she hates it on her wings. But I just sit with her a while, and then she feels better.”

  “Kassie’s always known how to do that ever since she were a little,” their grandfather added proudly as Kasiath gently tucked Peachwing into a small wooden box at their feet. “Best birder I ever knew, my granddaughter. It’s a gift, she has with ’em. They takes to her right outta the egg. Tamed up her first one when she were no more’n three years old. You remember, Jemmee?”

  Their mother nodded. “I remember bird droppings all over my table,” she said with a smile that belied the sour tone in her voice. “And I remember tellin’ you both that my kitchen was no place to tame up a wild creature.”

  “Huh. Sounds like Zoe and her pet rat,” Aiden said from the other side of the room where he was playing with his own children, three-year-old Egan and six-month-old Leila, before they went to bed.

  “I’m amazed Meegan lets her keep such an animal at all,” Sulia noted with a frown.

  “Zoe keeps it at Edzel’s,” Hektor replied. “But that’s even stranger, what with him dotin’ on her so much. You’d think he’d be scared it would bite her.”

  “Age’s addled his wits,” Aiden pronounced.

  “Just ’cause a man’s gettin’ on in years don’t mean any such a thing,” their grandfather said sternly, pulling the ends of a well-patched shawl more tightly about his shoulders.

  “He thinks Judee’s creepin’ in an’ stealin’ his goods, Granther,” Padreic said, looking up from the pig’s bladder ball he was perpetually mending.

  “An’ I asked along the whole Close,” Hektor added. “No one’s seen anyone suspicious about or lost anythin’ themselves.”

  “ ’Sides, who steals one silver spoon from a set of twelve, or five iron lath nails?” Aiden added. Rising, he scooped up both children under his arms and headed out the sitting room door amidst shrieks of laughter.

  “He’s right, Granther,” Hektor said. “I think Edzel’s’ losin’ his wits. His temper’s gettin’ worse an’ worse. The whole Close’s gettin’ sick of it.”

  Thomar just sniffed. “Edzel was a fine craftsman in his day,” he answered. “One of the best for small, delicate goods as I ever saw. He might a made a fine jeweler or even an artist if he’d come from a different family. The arthritis is what made him so sour. It robbed him of his craft, that’s enough to turn anyone ugly.”

  He fell silent, staring at the stove until Jemmee glanced up. “You’d best be off to bed now, Paddy,” she said. “You too, Kassie. Take Peachwing back to the coop now.”

  “Yes, Ma. G’night, Granther.”

  “Night, darlin’s.” Thomar accepted a kiss each from his youngest grandchildren. A few moments later, Jemmee and Sulia headed off as well with a warning to Thomas and Hektor not to sit up too late.

  “Mornin’ shift comes early, Hektor Dann,” his mother admonished as she snuffed out the room’s few candles. “An’ you need your sleep.”

  “I’ll be along soon, Ma,” he promised. But once they were alone, he glanced speculatively at his grandfather. “Do you miss watchhouse duty, Granther?” he asked.

  Thomar just shrugged. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I’ve got my birds, and young Kassie to pass my knowledge on to. You lot as well if it comes to that,” he added. “As long as I can pass on what I learned from my watchhouse days I’m happy enough. Problem with Edzel’s that he ain’t got that. The shop’s not for him. He never were too good with folk, just iron. When his own littles were young, he could teach ‘em what he knew, but they haven’t exactly followed in his footsteps.”

  “Two of his boys are blacksmiths, Granther,” Hektor reminded him gently.

  “Sure, but neither one of ’em has the same skill with small things, an’ that was what he was always the most proud of. Dunno, maybe when Zoe gets older, he can teach her to make toy soldiers an’ whistles or somethin’.”

  The two of them sat in silence for a long time until Thomar gave his grandson a speculative look of his own. “Asked along the whole Close, did you?” he asked.

  Hektor nodded.

  “All the way to the end?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “No reason.” Thomar stretched his hands towards the fire. “Little Leila’ll be walkin’ soon, Sulia says. An’ you know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Um, no.”

  “It mean your Ma’ll be anglin’ for another grandbaby, soon.”

  “From who?”

  His grandfather just shrugged. “Weren’t you sweet on young Ismy Smith once?”

  Hektor raised an eyebrow. “You sure, it ain’t you anglin’ for another great-grandbaby, Granther?”

  “Maybe. But you was sweet on Ismy once, yeah?”

  Hektor nodded cautiously.

  “And?” Thomas prodded.

  “And . . . she married a saddle maker two years ago.”

  “And?”

  “And . . . he died,” Hektor admitted reluctantly. “Last winter.”

  “And?”

  “And nothin’.”

  “Nothin’?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Hm.” Thomar hunkered down into his shawl. “Pity that. She were a nice girl.” He glanced about the flat with an innocent expression. “I hear Lorin Potter an’ his family from downstairs are movin’ in with his wife’s Da next spring.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yep. That leaves a flat empty. Sulia says she an’ Aiden might think about takin’ it. There’s even an extra room for Jakon an’ Raik to help ’em out with the rent. We figure that’d give us plenty of room here should someone else maybe get interested in havin’ a family, now that he’s bringin’ in a sergeant’s pay an’ all.”

  “Who’s we?” Hektor asked, both amused and a bit annoyed at the same time.

  “Me an’ your Ma,” his grandfather answered easily. “An’ Sulia. An’ Paddy.”

  “Paddy?”

  “Sure, he’s bringin’ in a proper wage as runner. He figures he can put in some to help out now.”

  “I s’pose he can.” Hektor stared at the tiny flickering flames behind the stove door. “Not sure I’ll be bringin’ in a sergeant’s pay for long, though,” he said after a moment. “Don’t think I’m suited to it. Aiden woulda made a better choice. I never shoulda been promoted above him. I’m no good at tellin’ folk what to do, whatever the captain says.”

  “Bollocks,” his grandfather scoffed. “Aiden’s too bad tempered, just like your Uncle Reed. Your da got promoted above him, an’ they worked it out just fine.”

  “It ain’t me an�
� Aiden, Granther, it’s me an’ Jakon and Raik.”

  His grandfather snorted unsympathetically. “They’ll come around. Keep doin’ what you’re doin’; stick ’em out in the rain until they mind you.” He pulled his shawl more tightly about his shoulders again. “Now, you best be off to bed afore Paddy gets too comfortable with all them covers. Go on now, I’ll head off myself in a bit.”

  Hektor nodded. “G’night, Granther.”

  “G’night, boy.”

  His brothers’ report the next morning was much the same as the day before. They’d taken it in turn to guard the shop inside and out, and, once again, no one had come near. Jakon made it clear that as far as he was concerned, any more time spent on Anvil’s Close was a waste of time.

  As the day wore on and there was no word from Edzel, Hektor began to believe they were right.

  Just before his shift’s end, he pushed aside the mountain of reports that being a sergeant seemed to involve and headed out to see for himself.

  The shop seemed strangely quiet when he arrived. Trisha was wrapping a piece of string around a set of fire tongs for a customer, and Zoe was playing happily with Lillbit behind the counter when he stepped inside.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked.

  Trisha shrugged. “Tay an’ Edzel are at a guild meetin’,” she said in a resigned tone of voice. “Edzel wants ’em to hire a force of private guards for the Close since he says he got thieved from again last night.”

  Hektor blinked. “You’re joking?”

  She shook her head. “Apparently one of his moonstones is missin’ now. Edzel just about went off his head this morning when he found out. But at least he ain’t blamin’ Judee no more. She an’ Ben are at the meetin’ too, so it’s just me an’ Zoe here all by our lonesome today, ain’t we, Zo- zo?”

  Zoe nodded happily.

  “I’ll just go an’ check on our tea,” Trisha continued. “You an’ Lillbit watch the shop for me, all right?”

  “We will.” Zoe glanced up at Hektor with a sunny smile. “Lillbit’s glad it’s tea time,” she pronounced, “Cause ’e say’s ’e real hungry.”

  He grinned down at her. “Is he now?”

  She nodded vigorously. “ ’E wants biscuits an’ jam wif ’is tea. I tol’ Auntie Trisa.”

  “Biscuits an’ jam? Really?”

  “An’ butter. It’s inna cupboard inna kitchen.” She pointed towards the back. “Lillbit can get inside if I ask ’im too, but Auntie Trisa don’t like ’im in there ’cause ’e gets ’is feet inna butter ’cause ’e knocks the lid off.”

  “He’s that smart, is he?”

  She nodded. “Lillbit can get inta all sorts a cupboards an’ cases.”

  “You talk to him, then?”

  “Yeah, an’ ’e talks back.”

  A chuckle made Hektor glance up to see Trisha standing in the kitchen doorway holding a tray. “Lillbit’s Zo-zo’s special friend,” she said emphasizing the word special. “Isn’t he, Zo-zo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I kinda had one of ’em too,” Hektor admitted. “When I was a little, only no one else could see him except me.”

  “No one else can hear Lillbit except Zoe,” Trisha agreed. “Will you stay for tea, Hek? We’re havin’ biscuits an’ jam.”

  “An’ butter,” Zoe prompted.

  “An’ butter, a course.”

  Hektor shook his head. “I should be gettin’ back. I got reports to file,” he said woefully, watching as Zoe set Lillbit carefully onto her shoulder before lifting a loose floorboard up with practiced ease and depositing something shiny beneath it. He frowned.

  “Zoe, whatcha doin’ there?” he asked lightly.

  “Tidyin’ up shop,” she answered. “Granther say’s ye should always tidy up shop when ye close. Even for tea.”

  “Is that your shop, then?”

  She nodded. “Lillbit’s an’ mine. When we get big, we’re gonna run Granther’s shop; maybe Granny’s too.”

  “Can I see your shop?”

  She nodded. Setting the floorboard to one side, she pointed into the cavity below. “We gots goods an’ tools jus’ like Granther,” she explained. “But we don’t gots a sign yet. We will though, real soon. The tools’re um . . .” she screwed her face up in concentration “ . . . hundred pennybits, an’ the good’re . . . four hundred.”

  Hektor leaned over the counter to see a number of small, unfamiliar tools lined up neatly beside two boat hooks, one thimble, a silver spoon, two iron settings, five nails, a handful of lead arms and legs, and a moonstone cradled in a piece of cloth. Beside him, Trisha’s eyes widened in exasperated surprise.

  “So it was his own grandbaby thievin’ his goods?”

  Back at the watchhouse, Jakon gave a loud guffaw. “Bet Edzel felt like a right fool when he found that out.”

  Hektor just shrugged. “Seemed to make him happy, actually,” he replied. “When I left ’em, they were talkin’ about what kind a sign her shop should have.”

  “A rat an’ a anvil, maybe?”

  “Maybe. Seems like Zoe’s got the same talent with animals as Kassie has with birds. Don’t know how that’ll help her run her own iron shop, but it should help Edzel come to terms with runnin’ his.”

  Raik leaned against Hektor’s desk, threatening to send the pile of reports to the floor. “So that’s the end of rain-soaked shifts on Anvil’s Close then, yeah?” he said, with a triumphant grin.

  Hektor nodded. “An’ the start of rain-soaked shifts on Tannery Row, so get your waterproof cloaks out.”

  “What?” Both younger brothers stared at him, and he turned a frown worthy of Aiden back at them.

  “That’s what I said, Constables.”

  “Aw, c’mon, Hek.”

  “C’mon, Sergeant.”

  “For how long?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how long I figure it needs doin’, so get home to your suppers. An’ tell Ma I’ll be home later.”

  “Where’re you goin’?” Raik asked sullenly.

  “Saddler’s Street.”

  His younger brothers’ expressions immediately changed from aggrieved to interested, but when he simply jerked his chin toward the door, they obeyed him with minimal grumbling.

  Once they were gone, he carefully straightened the pile of reports, then his uniform tunic, then the reports again, then, finally left the tiny sergeant’s office. As he headed down Iron Street, he took in a deep breath of the crisp autumn air, tasting the familiar aromas of baking bread and meat pies, before heading down Anvil’s Close. At the door to Edzel’s shop, both Zoe and her grandfather totally ignored him, but both Judee and Lillbit gave him equally knowing expressions before Trisha called them all inside to their own supper.

  Twice Blessed

  by Judith Tarr

  Judith Tarr has written many novels and several Friends of Valdemar stories under her own name. As Caitlin Brennan she writes novels about horses, especially the Lipizzan horses she breeds and trains on her farm in Arizona.

  Nerys and Kelyn were born on the same day, in the same town, to mothers who were cousins as well as the best and closest of friends. Their fathers were partners; Nerys’ father bred and raised sheep that were famous for the softness and richness of their wool, and Kelyn’s father turned the fleeces to a fine and subtly dyed fabric that had even clothed the queen in Haven.

  Everyone had hoped one of the children would be a boy so that the two families could unite in marriage as well as in business and friendship. When both turned out to be girls, they were universally expected to be companions in childhood and friends and allies when they grew to womanhood.

  That was a lovely dream. The reality manifested when they were barely old enough to sit up: Nerys challenged Kelyn for a doll that happened to be identical to the one she herself had, and Kelyn fought back with single-minded ferocity. They had to be separated by force and carried off to their respective nurseries.

  “A
h, well,” Nerys’ mother said. “They’re only babies. They’ll grow out of it.”

  Kelyn’s mother wondered about that, but then she chided herself. All these children had ever known was love. What could either of them know of its opposite?

  However they had learned it, Nerys and Kelyn disliked each other on sight. Age and maturity did nothing to improve their mutual antipathy. It was one of the very few things they ever agreed on: that they could not stand one another.

  Everything, with them, was rivalry. They vied with each other for friends, for prizes in contests, even for marks in school. If Nerys wore the latest fashion, Kelyn had to set a completely new one; if one entered a race at the fair, the other had to enter it too, and fight for every stride.

  It was like a curse, but no one in Emmerdale could imagine what or who might have laid it. Their families had enemies, of course; prosperity always attracted envy. But none of those had the resources or the knowledge to cast a spell of perpetual discord on a pair of children. Some tried to blame it on the Wizard’s Wood that touched the western edge of the town, but nothing had come out of that in time out of mind, except truffles and the occasional wild boar.

  For Nerys and Kelyn, it was simply the way things were. Their families tried everything from gentle remonstrance to outright whipping with complete lack of success. They never stopped trying, and Nerys and Kelyn never stopped detesting one another. It was an epic battle in its way, as much a part of life in Emmerdale as the sheepfolds and the woolen mill.

  Nerys and Kelyn shared one other thing besides mutual loathing: a lifelong fascination with the Queen’s Heralds and their magical Companions. From the time they were old enough to understand, they never tired of hearing about Companions.